But Mason played center field in the next ball-game. Only one chance was given him, and he accepted it prettily. His batting was good, as he got two clean singles. He ran bases well, but did nothing sensational.
All this proved neither one thing nor the other, for the game was regarded as sure for Yale from the start, the team pitted against the blue being from one of the minor colleges. In a game of that sort the weak man may show up well, as he has plenty of confidence. Against a strong team the weak man may lose his courage and go all to pieces, believing defeat is almost certain.
Merriwell, however, was well satisfied with Mason’s work. He found an opportunity to quietly tell the Southerner so, and Hock’s eyes showed that he appreciated this.
“Thank you, sah,” he said. “I did as well as I could. But I ought to have had another hit. I tried to drop the ball behind second, but made a misjudgment, so the baseman got it.”
“I noticed,” said Merry, “that you were trying to place all your hits. That’s the way to do. Men who simply try to hit the ball out any old place never make as good batters as place-hitters.”
“But sometimes,” said Hock, with a bit of a smile, “I find I’m up against a pitcher that I’m right glad to hit out to any old place. Pitchers are not all alike.”
Frank laughed.
“That’s quite true; but a bunting-team can make the slickest pitcher work hard. The trouble with most teams is that they never practise bunting. I’ve seen a game won off a clever pitcher after the seventh inning by a team turning to on finding they could not hit the ball out and going to bunting man after man as they came up. It rattled the pitcher and broke the luck of his side.”
Hodge made no further protests against Mason. He knew it was quite useless to do so as long as Merry had decided to keep the Southerner in defiance to popular clamor.
But still, deep in his heart, Bart continued to think Frank had made a mistake in judgment.